


Longing to Linger

by orphan_account



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, clairedevil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:44:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt knew he shouldn’t have been standing on Claire’s fire escape, but the city was under his skin again, its aches and pains becoming his own and wearing him down to the point where he couldn’t resist.<br/>-----</p><p>Matt let out a barely audible groan as he peeled himself away from the wall, preparing himself for a night’s work.  Then, she began to sing, a slow and soft melody, and her voice froze Matt in place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Longing to Linger

 

Matt knew he shouldn’t have been standing on Claire’s fire escape, but the city was under his skin again, its aches and pains becoming his own and wearing him down to the point where he couldn’t resist. He stood outside the window into her apartment, back to the wall beside it as he berated himself for winding up where he was. Beside _her_ window, the window that he could so easily slip through, the one that he had fallen and slinked through many times before, battered, bruised, and bloody. So close to the woman who he should be avoiding, for both their sakes.

 

Because this wasn’t before, and he wasn’t supposed to be here. He mentally kicked himself and wondered whether his lack of sleep or the last shot was the reason for his lapse in judgment. He could hear her in the kitchen, smell the eggs she was making. Based on the antiseptic odor of her scrubs, he could tell that she had just gotten back from a shift at the hospital. But underneath the scent of her work, the patients and medicine and antibacterial soap, a warm, citrusy scent that was uniquely Claire’s clung to her skin. It radiated outwards, and he could lose himself in it, if only for a short, fleeting moment. He took in a deep breath, the achingly familiar aura of her apartment enveloped him and drowning out the rest of the city. The city, however, was loud, bright (in his memories, anyway), and had other things on its mind. It didn’t need a lovesick boy; it needed the man in a mask. Matt let out a barely audible groan as he peeled himself away from the wall, preparing himself for a night’s work.  Then, she began to sing, a slow and soft melody, and her voice froze Matt in place.

 

“ _Stars shining bright above you_

 _Night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you,’_ ” Claire began absentmindedly, unaware of her audience.

 

“ _Birds singing in the sycamore trees_

 _Dream a little dream of me._ ” She sang, her words growing louder, voice dipping and raising to the melody of a song that only they could hear.

 

“ _Say nighty-night and kiss me_

_Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me_

_While I'm alone and blue as can be_

_Dream a little dream of me,_ ” she continued, and Matt could hear the floorboards creaking slightly as she danced. He couldn’t help but smile at the mental-image of Claire twirling around her cramped kitchen while cooking.

 

“ _Stars fading but I linger on dear_

 _Still craving your kiss_ ,” She paused for a second to flip her egg, and Matt could hear the slight sizzle of the egg and the way the flames licked the pan and shouts throughout Hell’s Kitchen and he knew that he should have left, that he should be doing what he owed his city. However, this line of thought died as soon as she resumed singing and her voice washed over him.  

 

“ _I'm longing to linger till dawn dear_

_Just saying this_

_Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you_

_Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you_

_But in your dreams whatever they be_

_Dream a little dream of me_.”

 

Claire belted, then began humming the melody, low and sweet, and moved to the table to eat. Matt suddenly became aware of how personal the moment was and of just how wrong it was of him to be there. She was better off without him rolling into her home with an injury every few days, without him calling her at obscenely early hours to drag him out of various dumpsters. Without him wanting to take her out on a proper date, someplace nice, like she deserved. Without him desperately wanting to be the kind of man she deserved.

 

But he couldn’t be that man; not when so many other people needed him to be someone else. He needed to be the vigilante, saving this city one person at a time. The kind of person who was doing that, was not the kind of person that could, or should, be taking women like Claire out on dates and making promises that they couldn’t keep.

 

So he let out a resigned sigh and finally moved off of the fire escape, rappelling down the side and landing on rough, cracked pavement. He could still faintly hear her, and though where she was was where he wanted to be, the dirty back-alleys and dark corners of Hell’s Kitchen were where he _needed_ to be.

 

\-------------

  
If any of the people that he fought that night thought it was strange that he was humming while beating them to a pulp, then they never found a chance to mention it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm still kind of new to writing fanfiction, so feel free to leave tips and constructive criticism in the comments. 
> 
> PS- I was totally listening to The Mamas & The Papas "Dream a Little Dream of Me" while writing this.


End file.
